


intervention 198

by eltinka



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Lots of Angst, i hope it works out, my first actual long multi-chapter fic, will add tags as the story goes along
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-14
Updated: 2015-08-14
Packaged: 2018-04-14 14:45:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4568442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eltinka/pseuds/eltinka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>things get out if you're not careful, things get in.</p><p>this is the story of the girl who ran into the dark, and the boy who followed her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	intervention 198

**Author's Note:**

> ayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy this will be my first ever long multi-chapter fic and i've had this idea for months now, i've been trying to write the beginning for awhile now but i was unsure how to. idk how many chapters this is gonna have. im just gonna go with the flow. im known to have short fics and this prologue is short but that's just how i wanna keep it. short n sweet. i take quite awhile to write (as does anyone) so there may be fairly large gaps between this chapter and the next one. also, if anyone is interested in being my beta reader, lmk!! i would rlly appreciate it. constructive criticism is so welcome it hurts. my tumblr is muhleatate, feel free to ask me questions or follow me or some shit idk. enjoy yall!! ur in for a wild ride. (pray that i commit to this im a sagittarius and i am afraid of commitment)

There’s no such thing as fate; at least that’s what she wants to believe. Fate exists, and it kicks her ass every single day. Lydia Martin was destined to a life of death, and that doesn’t happen to just anybody.

She never felt the connection when she was a kid. Unless you consider sixteen-year-olds as kids. Lydia Martin wouldn’t blame you. She would too, if she hadn’t lost her innocence then.

But it was seventeen when she fell apart. She’s been a big believer in fate ever since. She believed with all of her broken heart and brilliant mind that this wasn’t all for nothing. At least she tried.

It’s hard to keep up when, y’know, death is all around you. Constantly. 24/7. Stuck up your ass and around the corner. 4.0 GPAs mean nothing in this world.

So it was sixteen when she was dragged into the darkness. And it was seventeen when she realized she wouldn’t get out. When she realized that death, _death_ doesn’t happen _to_ you. It happens to everyone _around_ you. And she’s so sorry. So fucking sorry. She thought she could stop it this time.

The voices. She thought she could stop them.

And because of fate, she can’t.

“Lydia.”

Her name is an echo in the utter emptiness of her room.

“I believe you,” he says. “Okay? I believe you.”

The moonlight pours through her open window and it’s in fragments like it shouldn’t be. There’s bark by his feet. Dirt on her toes. Questions in the air.

And, oh, she wants to be alone.

“Go away, Stiles,” she croaks.

She can practically feel the tears welling up in his eyes. Or maybe it’s her own. But he’s a big boy. He can handle himself. Because no matter what, she’ll break his heart and she’ll break his soul and he’ll bleed all over her damn floor. That’ll be a bitch to clean up.

But still, he stands his ground. “No.”

She’s fate, taking the things he could never fathom letting go.

And still, he stands his ground. “I’m not leaving you here.”

Stubborn asshole.

Lydia’s gaze shoots to his. “Here?” she says. “I’m home, genius. And don’t look at me like that. Like I’m... like I’m fragile. _Broken_. Don’t.”

A sob builds up in her throat.

“ _Don’t_.”

“Well, I can’t _fucking_ help it,” he shouts, and it echoes like her name.

Lydia flinches. His apologies hang in the silence.

“Ly-”

“I said, _don’t_. As in, _do_. _Not_.” She heaves. “Now tell me, why the _hell_ are you in my room?”

A cool breeze rushes over her. She shivers. So weak. Pathetic. She could never get a break.

And he stands before her, that same fucking look on his stupid fucking face. He could never fucking quit. He may as well be a wolf, always tracking her the fuck down and following her and reading her the way she reads her thermodynamics textbook in the car with Allison and looking at her like she’s the most important fucking thing in the world and she’s crumbling, she’s crumbling and he can see it. He can see it under the broken moonlight. He can see her.

“Lydia, you’re no-” he sighs, “can you… can you give me your hands? Please?”

And damn her straight to hell, she does.

He holds her hands in the palms of his and watches them gently unfold.

“Count with me.”

A digit runs up her index.

One.

(A sort of calm washes over her).

Her middle.

Two.

(He taps the silver band there).

Ring.

Three.

(The forest begins to sprout alive).

“Stiles…” she rasps.

She’s a victim of fate, always getting what she can’t live without taken from her.

“I’ll… I’ll take you home.”

And, really, you gotta hand it to her; she always gets back up. Fights back. Fixes it.

“Okay.”

So why couldn’t she do it this time?

“You’re fucking freezing, Lyd.”

What’s so different?

“I’m sorry.”

And why does she still feel the need to scream?


End file.
